Steven Harper's Blog, page 8

Teacher Voice

I have a well-developed teacher voice. When used properly, it becomes a weapon. Decades of practice in the classroom and on stage have given me a powerful voice. It’s not a resonant, basso-profundo like Patrick Stewart or anything, but it does fill every corner of a room. Like a stage actor before microphones, I know how to make my voice fill a space, and the tone reaches deep into the psyche, where it triggers deep-seated reflexes and yanks the listener’s attention to me.  You wouldn’t know when you talk to me that I can change the pitch and range of my voice from normal conversation to “pay attention or you’re dead!” But I can. The teacher voice isn’t a shout or even a bark. It’s just … penetrative. I can see it in action. When I switch it on in a classroom, the students change posture and turn toward me without realizing it. I can hold a class of 35 freshmen completely still with nothing but my voice. It has an impact outside the classroom, too. When I go back to work after two and half months of summer, when I don’t use the teacher voice, it takes a while to readjust. I turn it on at work and forget to shut it off when I get home. It’s a common thing for Darwin to wince and cover his ears. “You’re using your teacher voice,” he says, and I have to remodulate. It’s interesting that he recognizes it. I’ve used the teacher voice as a weapon out of school, and it works there, too. On a tour bus in Turkey, I caught a smarmy older woman proselytizing to the Muslims on board and quietly told her to stop unless she wanted to risk arrest. I didn’t really care if she got in trouble, but I didn’t want the rest of us to get dragged in with it. She pitched a fit and decided to harass Darwin and me for the rest of the trip. After enduring a number of snarky, snide remarks, I reached my limit. I turned on my teacher voice and boomed, “Don’t speak to me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me. Keep your religion to yourself!” She tried to interrupt, but I ran right over her. “Stop talking! Keep it to yourself!” A round of applause rang through the bus, and the woman shut up. Teacher voice. On our trip to Puerto Rico, part of our flight was rescheduled at the last minute, and Darwin and I had to make a tight connection as a result. So did several other passengers sitting around us. But you know what it’s like when a plane lands. People move so slow. It’s like they’re reluctant to leave the plane. One woman ahead of us opened the luggage bin and reached for her bag and sl-o-o-o-w-ly dragged it over to herself. She even paused to check her phone. Twice. Meanwhile, a bunch of us in the back of the plane were fuming and growing more and more worried. I finally switched on my teacher voice. “Folks! We have a bunch of people back here who need to make a connecting flight right away,” I boomed. “We need your help. Please hurry along!” And lo, people hurried along.  There’s something primordial about the teacher voice. It speaks with authority and touches old reflexes. People listen to it without realizing it. It’s one of the more powerful tools in my box. 

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Puerto Rico!

Last month, Darwin and I joined my cousin Mark and his wife Tamara for a week in Puerto Rico. It was a delight!

Once we got there, anyway.

The day Darwin and I were supposed to fly out, a snowstorm swept in and delayed our flight from Detroit, meaning we'd miss our connecting flight in Charlotte. We ended up having to wait until the next day--and THAT flight was delayed on the runway because the plane needed to be de-iced and it took a lot longer than normal. So we were going to miss that day's connecting flight, too! I have to say, though, that American Airlines stepped up. Darwin and I spent an unhappy four hours in the air, wondering how the hell we were going to get to the island before our vacation actually ended, but when we landed and our internet was restored, we got alerts that American had automatically rescheduled our connecting flight to one that was leaving promptly after we landed. We did have to sprint through the airport, but we made it and finally ended up in Puerto Rico. Whew.

This was my and Darwin's second visit to PR. We absolutely love it there. When I left the airport and the summery air swept over me, I marveled at how much I felt at home. 

We picked up our rental car without incident and met Mark and Tamara at the flat we'd all rented. To tell the truth, I was a little uneasy at first. Mark and I grew up together and we shared a number of family vacations right up until we were teenagers, and things always went perfectly well. But we hadn't traveled together since then, and we've gotten rather older in the intervening years. We're close as adults, but we hadn't done any overnight travel together, let along with Darwin and Tamara. Would we get along?

Short answer: yes!

We actually had a formal discussion about vacation stuff before we left and decided not to overschedule ourselves as a foursome in order to avoid stress. The only things we set up in advance was a hiking and kayaking trip, a visit to Old Town San Juan, and a visit to the fort El Moro. For the rest of the time, we gave all of ourselves permission to do what we wanted, either together or separate, and no one should feel pressure to do stuff together the entire time. This worked out very well. And Mark and Tamara proved to be easygoing flat-mates.

The four of us took a hiking trip through the rainforest that culminated in a visit to a waterfall/river/swimming hole. We enjoyed that very much. Then it was time to go on a sunset kayaking tour of the bio-luminescent bay, where the local plankton spark when you hit the water with a paddle or your hand. It made for a tiring but enjoyable day.

The trip to Old Town was also fun, especially when we came across the bird park, which is filled with thousands of aggressive pigeons. Tamara bought a sackful of feed and quickly found herself covered in birds from head to foot. We tried and failed to find the ice cream shop Darwin and I loved last time, but we did find the fantastic restaurant we remembered and had a wonderful lunch there. I really have to learn to make empanadas.

The four of us shared some meals and also wandered along the ocean walk. The Atlantic is a stunner. We also enjoyed perfect weather all week--seventies at night, low eights during the day, only a single afternoon of light rain. It was like the island was flirting with us.

We spent the rest of the week idling around the island. Mark and Tamara took an all-day hike on the western side of the island one day, and Darwin and I re-explored Candado in San Juan. We slept late with the windows open to the ocean breezes. On impulse, the four of us took another kayak tour around the lagoon near our flat building. I went swimming a couple times in the sheltered bay in Condado and got a perfect tan. And Mark and I re-connected, and the four of us regular-connected. Darwin haven't done much vacationing with other couples, and we had a fine time doing so with Mark and Tamara. I told Mark, "Yep--we're vacation-compatible. No small thing!" He laughed and agreed.

The week went by too fast. Darwin and I are giving serious consideration to moving there after we're both retired, or at least doing the snowbird thing. We'll see what happens.

The flight home was straightforward and without incident, but it was sad in that it meant we were leaving. I'm already trying to figure out when we'll go back.



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Ticking Off the Right

 It seems that one of my books ticked off a member of the school board. Aw! Definitely don't have a look at it.

https://www.amazon.com/Importance-Being-Kevin-Steven-Harper/dp/1644052571/

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Lazy Ice Day

 We had a bit of an ice storm last night. Most of the schools in the area announced closure the night before, but Wherever Schools held their breath and waited. We didn't get the cancel call until 4:45 AM.

Today I made cinnamon rolls from scratch and the bean soup that I reverse-engineered from the Whitney restaurant several years ago. I did a bunch of writing business and went for a treadmill run. It's been a laid-back day.

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It's Here!

 It’s release day for THE DOOMSDAY VAULT in audio! I’ve been listening to it, and the narration is fantastic. Full author approval! :) You can find it here:

https://www.audible.com/pd/The-Doomsday-Vault-Audiobook/B0DT4V8D56

If you’re up for leaving a review, it would be very helpful!


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Section Meh

I saw Star Trek: Section 31 and ... meh.

I always like Michelle Yeoh. But really, she was the only thing to like. The show went way astray from Star Trek's setting and tone. Section 31 was more like Star Wars--gritty ships, desert worlds, everyone dirty. Even a trash compactor! And it didn't fit the Section 31 mythos. Section31 has always been presented as the Mission Impossible of Star Trek. The agents are highly-trained and focused. They go deep undercover. They manipulate and play tricks. They vanish into thin air when the mission ends. But this version of Section 31 was more like Pirates of the Caribbean. They were a bunch of weird misfits--a grinning Vulcan with a parasite, a guy with mental issues in a mech suit, a stick-in-the-mud officer, a shapeshifter who can't make decisions. None of them were subtle (especially the Vulcan). None of them would make a good spy, and there was no justification given for these unfocused, bizarre people to be recruited as super spies. The show emphasizes action and beating people up and starship battles. And we also have the overdone Macguffin, in this case a universe-destroying widget that predictably gets kicked around the room, always just out of reach of the character who's trying to get it. It wouldn't be difficult to file the Trek serial numbers off it and turn it into a generic SF movie.

So ... meh. Moving on.
 

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What, Me Ulcers?

A few weeks ago, I started getting strange, on-off pain in the middle of my chest. It felt like someone was making a fist just above my diaphragm and was very much like a gall stone attack, except I had my gall bladder out years ago. It clearly wasn't anything cardiac. Still, I went to the doctor about it.

My doctor examined and frowned and examined and frowned and in the end, he said, "I have no clue what this could be. Are you feeling it now?"

"Yes."

"The only thing I can think of is maybe an ulcer, but even that seems remote. Still, we should get you checked for it. The clinic can put a camera down your throat and check." 

"Oh," I said. "Good thing I don't have a gag reflex."

"They put you under for this one," the doctor said. "Here's the clinic's number."

Hoo. As you know, Bob, anesthesia is a major source of anxiety for me, and rightfully so, considering the horrible things the staff at That One Clinic said about and did to me while I was under. So just making the appointment got me a little upset, especially since the doctor said this was a "just in case" kind of test.

A few days later, I was diagnosed with a urinary tract infection.

Men don't often get UTIs. I've certainly never had one. But when I saw blood in the toilet bowl, I proceeded with some haste to an urgent care clinic. (I wasn't in pain, so I didn't go to the ER.) Urgent care ran a couple tests and determined I had an advanced UTI. Men, you see, often don't show symptoms until the condition becomes advanced, even to the point where it's climbed up to the kidneys. It also turns out that men who are prone to kidney stones are also prone to UTIs from your own internal bacteria. Well, that's special, innit?

The urgent care doctor put me on antibiotics and I did the cranberry juice thing in case it was helpful. The infection cleared up in a few days. The strange pain also went away. Hmmm.

I emailed my urologist to report what had happened. Could have been the pain problem? If so, did I still need to do the stomach camera thing?

He responded that a UTI wouldn't ever cause the pain I was describing, so I should go through with the procedure. Sigh.

Yesterday was procedure day. I'd been growing increasingly nervous, and I kept telling myself that this was an easy, straightforward process, and it was through my mouth instead of down below. I was still severely shaky by the time we arrived at the clinic. I had also disguised my little recorder as a finger splint so I could record everything that happened while I was unconscious. 

For the prep, I was supposed to eat nothing for the eight hours beforehand, and have no liquids four hours beforehand. I followed this. I ate a good breakfast and was finished eating before 7:30 AM, exactly eight hours before my 3:30 PM procedure, and I stopped fluids at 11:30. At the appointed time, Darwin drove me to the clinic.

The staff at the clinic was very nice. Also, I didn't even have to take off my sweats or even my shoes--only my shirt, and that only so they could attach a heart monitor, which made me feel better. The IV went into my hand, which was also very nice. I prefer that over the elbow. And even nicer, they said they used propofol only. No Versed. I hate Versed because it wrecks my memory (see anxiety above), and was happy to hear this news. So three yays in a row! I still activated the recorder taped to my finger.

They wheeled me into the operating room, got me positioned, put a guard in my mouth, and injected the propofol. I got dizzy as I always do, and then I was back in the recovery room feeling blurred and woozy. Oddly, I remember dreaming, something people don't usually do under anesthesia.

It turned out that there was still food in my stomach, even though I'd followed the directions to the letter. As a result, they weren't able to examine my stomach very well. However, they did find multiple ulcers on my esophagus. This surprised me quite a lot--no one in my family gets them that I know of.

But I =am= under considerable long-term stress a lot. (More on this in a later entry.) And this would explain the strange pains. My doctor was right.

The clinic put me on massive doses of Prilosec and sent me home. I need to go back to try again in a few weeks so they can get a better view of my stomach, and this time I'll have to go 24 hours on a liquid diet. Today I listened to the sound file and heard nothing strange, hurtful, or even interesting. So, good!

Though I do have ulcers. 



 

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Wind Chill!

 With the Deep Freeze of Doom heading our way (predictions are -20 to -30), everyone seems to be scurrying around or waiting with bated breath. Washtenaw County has already closed non-essential services for Tuesday, something I've never seen them do before. I've heard that some of the local school districts are figuring on closing and have set up contingency plans so all they have to do is pull the trigger.

If the forecast holds, I may get a five-day weekend!

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Audio For the Win!

 Some great news! We have a release date for the audio version of my Clockwork Empire steampunk series. They hit the stores on January 28. Cut Bonnem and Kim Bretton narrate the books, and they're wonderful! The editor sent me some snippets, and I love the accents, I love the intonations, and I love the narration. Love!

I guess I'm a little unusual. See, some authors don't like listening to someone else read their books aloud, usually because the author has lived with the book for a year or more and has developed an internal voice of what the book and the characters sound like, and no narrator can match it. So the author feels uncomfortable: "The narrator got it wrong! That's not how Betty sounds!" or some such.

Me? I absolutely love it. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, I get fascinated. I get to see how someone else imagines my work. It's like getting a peek into a reader's head. Whenever one of my books comes out on audio, I can't wait to listen.

All four books will drop at once, though the first one in the series is The Doomsday Vault. The cover blurb goes:

A bizarre strain of zombies roam the streets of Victorian London, infecting all they touch with the Clockwork Plague. While most victims die painful deaths, a few become Clockworkers, geniuses who create the greatest inventions of the age—right before going insane.

The plague has also taken its toll on the life of twenty-two-year-old Alice Michaels. After her mother and brother die from the disease because of her, she feels obligated to ensure her father’s happiness. Unfortunately, that means ignoring her passion for automatons and instead, pursuing the wealthiest man possible.

But when zombies attack Alice’s cab, being tied down in a loveless marriage is the least of her worries. She is quickly swept up into a secret organization chasing down Clockworkers—and into the arms of Gavin Ennock, a former airship cabin boy and talented fiddle player. Together they will navigate a political conspiracy that threatens to consume their country and the world ...

Check out the cover. I'll hit you all up again when they come out!
 

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The Little Mixer That Could

When I first got married thirty-five years ago, we got a small Black + Decker hand mixer. It was the only one in the kitchen for a long time--I didn't get a stand mixer until relatively recently. That little mixer made everything--cookie dough, muffins, whipped cream, pudding, pancake batter, you name it.

A couple days ago, it was just finishing a batch of mashed potatoes when it had a heart attack and dropped dead. It lived a brave life and I gave it a warrior's funeral.

The grieving period, however, was brief. Less than an hour later, in fact, I was shopping for a new one. I did think about just doing without a hand mixer, but no. Some dishes just don't do well in a stand mixer. And kitchen shopping is fun!

My stand mixer is a Kitchen Aid, and like all Kitchies everywhere, I love mine. It's powerful, sturdy, easy to use, and reliable. It also has a little thingie that lets you add motorized attachments, like a pasta roller or a meat grinder. I decided to see if Kitchen Aid also had hand mixers. And lo, on their website, it was announced that they did.

Hand mixers have come a long way in 35 years. My little mixer was good, but it couldn't handle truly heavy stuff like bread dough or cold butter. The new ones? Powerful! Apparently, they'll chew through wood chips. 

Not only that, they have CORDLESS mixers! In many colors!

All my kitchen accents are red. My stand mixer is red. So are my dish towels, refrigerator handle covers, rugs, Instant Pot, and Air Fryer. I was happy to see that Kitchen Aid's new cordless mixers also came in red. Gleefully I ordered one. Darwin rolled his eyes at me and was about to say something sarcastic when I interrupted him.

"If you want to eat the tasty treats that the new mixer produces," I warned, "you'd better swallow that comment before you make it."

He swallowed and gave me a tight smile. He who controls the mixer controls the world.

But while I was at the web site, I thought I'd have a look at stand mixer attachments. Why not? And I found Kitchen Aid makes a peeler/corer/spiral cutter attachment. Ooooooo!

I have a peeler/slicer/corer already. Mostly I use it for pie apples. The design on this widget has probably not changed in a hundred years. You clamp it to the cupboard, stick an apple on a set of prongs at the end of a screw, and turn a handle to spin the fruit. The screw twirls the apple through a coring cylinder while a small blade does the peeling. I've had this doohickly for nearly as long as I had the little mixer, in fact. It's tricky to use, though. The clamp is stubborn, and if the apple isn't set just right, the peeling blade will gouge the apple badly. So when I saw Kitchen Aid makes a motorized version (with a nice, sharp blade) that whirls through apples and potatoes in a trice, I decided I HAD to have it. A few mouse clicks later, and it was on the way!

Now I'm waiting for my new toys to arrive.

I'd feel guiltier, but I know my little mixer would want me to be happy.




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